Proving it to Molly
by loveadoodle
Summary: Sherlock has a revelation, but it may be too little too late. A continuation of Irrelevant.
1. Let Her Go

**AN-This one was inspired by the song "Let Her Go" by Passenger**

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><p>Sherlock Holmes looked at the cardboard box before him, a crease forming between his eyebrows. The box was full of meaningless things: a ballpoint pen that no longer worked because she had used it to fill out the mountains of paperwork that often towered on her desk, some old memos he had hastily scrawled onto sticky notes instructing her on how to assist him in his experiments, some crumpled chocolate wrappers from the sweets in which she would indulge whenever the stress got to be too much, an old, dog-eared notebook she used to jot down notes from the experiments they ran together, and so many other things for which he had no use. Yet, he could not bring himself to throw any of it away. These measly little items were all he had left of Molly Hooper.<p>

Why had she left him? She hadn't even planned on saying goodbye. Did he really mean so little to her? Why did that bother him? Sherlock felt his heart clench, and that terrified him. Why did the mousy little pathologist have such an effect on him, and how long had this been going on? Before he could delve into this, he heard the front door open and John walk up the stairs.

"Oi, Sherlock, I just remembered something," he called as he entered the flat. "I forgot to tell you, Molly got a new job in Edinburgh. She leaves today." He came to stand in front of his best friend.

"Yes, I know," the taller man muttered without looking up.

"Oh, well, I thought we should probably go over to her flat and, you know, see her off," John said with shrug.

"It's too late for that; she left four hours ago," Sherlock responded, still staring down at the coffee table.

John sank into his chair, facing Sherlock. "That's a shame. Mary and I are gonna miss her, but this should be great for her career. She told me she'll be heading the pathology department, and she'll be working with Ewan Buchannan. I hear he's one of the best pathologists in the UK."

At this, Sherlock's head snapped up. He had heard of this Buchannan character. He was one of the youngest and brightest pathologists of this generation. He had blond hair and green eyes and was what many would consider handsome. Sherlock could not understand why the thought of sweet Molly meeting this man made his stomach churn. He decided the best thing for him to do was to throw himself into his work. A case, that's what he needed. The detective grabbed his phone and chose a case at random. He stood with a flourish and marched out the door, leaving a poor, confused John in his wake.

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><p>It had been a month since Sherlock last entered the lab of St. Bart's Hospital; he hadn't been there since the day Molly left. Since then, he had been solving all sorts of cases, from a simple kidnapping that had barely been a three to a nine given to him by his brother. Somehow, he had managed to avoid the hospital in the solving of his cases. Now that the cases had all been dealt with, he guessed it was time for him to finish his experiment. When he arrived in the lab, Sherlock saw Mike Stamford talking to strange woman. She was slightly shorter than average height and had shoulder-length red hair, hazel eyes and a very pale complexion. <em>She must be Molly's replacement<em>, Sherlock thought.

"Ah, Mike, how nice to see you again," he greeted loudly. "And who might this be?"

"Hello again, Sherlock. This is Meredith Cross; she's going to take Molly's place. You and she are going to be seeing a lot of each other," Mike said with a gesture towards the lady in question.

"It's wonderful to meet you, Mr. Holmes. I've heard so much about, and I can't wait to work with you," the pretty woman gushed, extending her hand enthusiastically.

"Hello," Sherlock replied with an aloof tone. He took her hand and proceeded to make initial deductions: _single, never married, two dogs, plays guitar, kick boxes, spends a lot of outdoors for recreation_. "Nice to meet you," he said as he released her hand.

"Well, I'll leave you two to it then," said Mike as he walked out the door.

Sherlock made his way to his favorite microscope with Meredith right on his heels. "Can I get you anything?" she offered.

"Coffee, black, two sugars," he responded as he sat down and started to fiddle with the microscope knobs.

A few minutes later, Meredith was back with a hot cup of coffee. She placed it carefully on to lab bench near enough for him to reach and stood there expectantly. Sherlock slowly took a sip and made a face. It wasn't quite right. Despite this, he nodded his thanks. Satisfied, the new pathologist walked away and went about her business. Sherlock watched her as she moved about the room. She wasn't quite as efficient as Molly. "I think I left something in the morgue. I'll be right back," the redhead announced as she exited the lab.

Sherlock stood and made his way to Molly's office. On the plaque outside the door, there were no longer the looping, scripty letters declaring that this was the office of Doctor Molly Hooper. In their stead, large block letters stated that Meredith Cross now occupied this room. When he looked in, he was disturbed by what he saw. Where Molly had filled the room with color and warmth there was now nothing. The fairy lights that Molly had strung up along the ceiling were gone. The bright cup of pens and pencils was missing from the desk. The colorful paintings and kitten posters no longer adorned the wall. The room had lost its homey feel; it felt cold and empty and devoid of the cheer Molly had brought.

Meredith had already started to settle into the room. She had placed some books on the shelves and tacked a few picture of her doing various outdoorsy activities on the corkboard. A vase of white orchids sat on the table. Something in Sherlock stirred when he saw the name on the name plate on the desk. This was no longer Molly Hooper's place. Sherlock felt as if there was a hole in his heart that nothing could fill. Meredith could never replace Molly, but Molly Hooper was no longer here. She was off 400 miles away with Dr. Blondie the Genius Pathologist who would probably sweep her off her feet and live happily ever after with her. Suddenly, Sherlock's mind palace was assaulted by the image of Molly Hooper assisting some dashing Scotsman in a lab and bringing him his perfect coffee and blushing at his compliments. This was simply unacceptable.

He heard a noise behind him. "Did you need something?" a voice called from in the lab. Meredith made her way to the doorway.

The detective looked at her and shook his head. "No," came his curt reply, and he made to leave the room.

"You know the person who used this office before me, right?" At his nod, she entered the room and began rummaging through the desk. "I found this here. It was stuck in the bottom drawer under a stack of papers. I didn't know what to do with it, but maybe you can give it back." She handed Sherlock a piece of paper.

He took it in his hands and realized that it was a picture. It was from his goddaughter's first birthday party some time ago. He remembered the day well. It had been the beginning of spring, and it was beautiful out. The Watsons had decided to celebrate their daughter's birthday with a picnic in Hyde Park. It had only been the Watsons, Greg, Mrs. Hudson, Sherlock, and Molly. They had all had such fun that day, even Sherlock, not that he would ever admit that.

This picture was taken when neither Sherlock nor Molly were looking. Sherlock himself looked rather happy animatedly talking, most likely about a case he had just solved. And Molly, well she looked absolutely angelic smiling and laughing at whatever Sherlock was saying. This is how he loved seeing Molly, bright and carefree and happy, so different from the way she had looked the last time he had seen her. He wanted to see her like this all the time. He wanted to be the one to make her this happy all the time.

That was it. That was why he had reacted so strongly to Molly's departure. He needed her. He loved her. Why had it taken him so long to realize this? He loved Molly Hooper, and he sure as hell was not about to let some strange Scottish man take her away. Something had to be done. Without another word, he swept out of the lab hoping that it was not too late.


	2. Hold Your Head High

**AN-This one was inspired by "Hold Your Head High" by Colbie Caillat**

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><p>Leaving was the hardest thing Molly had ever done. She hadn't told Sherlock about her departure because she wasn't sure if she would have had the strength to leave if she saw him. But she had done it; she had told him how she felt and had left with dignity.<p>

She had spent so much of her life being Sherlock Holmes' personal assistant, fetching him his coffee, running tests for his many case, nicking body parts for his absurd experiments. For so long, she wasn't even sure if they were friends. Things had changed after The Fall. She had grown far more confident and assertive in his presence. She realized that he counted her as one of his closest, most trusted friends, and she was perfectly content with that. However, things couldn't stay this way forever. She needed something more, and a change in scenery could be exactly what she needed to move on from him. Moreover, this was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, and turning it down would have been a fool's move. Now, she was sitting on an airplane headed to one of the most beautiful places on earth about to start the newest chapter of her life. Her stomach was in knots; she was so excited and terrified at the same time.

The flight had been a short one, and she retrieved all of her belongings without a hitch. She took a cab from Edinburgh Airport to her new flat. It was near the University of Edinburgh Medical School, where she would be heading the pathology department. She would be part of some of the most innovative research in forensic science. She would be helping teach bright young minds in a field she loved. She would be working with some of the greatest pathologists in the country. She couldn't wait to get started.

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><p>It had been a month since Molly started her position at the University of Edinburgh, and she had handled the transition well. At first, she thought it would be difficult for her to settle into a new routine. However, the staff at the University welcomed her warmly and she really enjoyed working with them. She really missed doing post mortems and working cases, but she enjoyed the research she was doing, and she knew that the work she was doing would greatly benefit the scientific community.<p>

Her friends had all called her and congratulated her; they were even planning on coming up to visit her. However, one person had conspicuously not contacted her once since her departure, a certain consulting detective.

The hardest part of all of this was that she would no longer be working with Sherlock. She enjoyed working with him in companionable silence, helping him whenever she was needed. They had done so much together, and she really missed it. But this would be good for her. She knew she loved him and always would. She had really needed to distance herself; it was the only way she could ever really move on.

She walked into the lab and was greeted by a smiling blond pathologist.

"Good morning, Molly. You look absolutely ravishing this morning," Ewan greeted her with a wide smile.

"Good morning to you, too, Ewan. You don't look was bad yourself," she responded with an equally wide grin. She then busied herself gathering all the test tubes and agar plates necessary for her experiments and settled into her work station.

"So, are you all dressed up to meet someone special, like a boyfriend?" he queried in a nonchalant tone.

"First, I don't get dressed up for anyone but myself. Second, I don't actually have a boyfriend," Molly answered with a cheeky smirk.

"An amazing woman like you should have dozens of men falling at your feet."

"Right… I really don't ever see that happening."

"Well, why not? You're an intelligent, funny, caring woman. Any man would be lucky to be with you," he stated sincerely.

"That's very sweet, Ewan. Maybe you're up for the job," the petite brunette joked as she turned to her work, blushing deeply.

They worked in a comfortable quiet for a while. Molly stole a glance in her coworker's direction. He really was an attractive man. He had sandy blond hair that he styled in a way that made him look like James Dean. His eyes were a deep, emerald green that shone brightly when he talked about things that he loved. When he smiled, which was often, he showed off deep dimples that made him look almost childlike. Beyond his obvious good looks, he was also very kind and patient. She had seen the way he helped the young students who came into the lab seeking help. He really enjoyed helping others. He also shared her love of the morbid and macabre. They had often shared long conversations about the many cases that Molly had helped solve and the interesting things she had seen in the morgue. Yes, Ewan Buchanan was a wonderful man anyway you looked at it. Molly's thoughts were interrupted by the sound of Ewan's deep tenor.

"Listen, Molly, I was wondering if maybe you'd like to grab a cup of coffee later."

"Oh, that would be love—"

"No, I don't think she'll be able to make it."

They both turned their gazes to the doorway to see a tall figure standing in the doorway.


	3. I Will Survive

**AN-It's almost over. There's one more chapter, and I've already started it. Hopefully our Consulting Detective can pull his head out of his ass in time. I Will Survive by Gloria Gaynor came on the radio and I knew I just had to do a chapter based on it.**

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><p>Molly's eyes widened in shock as she stared at the Consulting Detective standing in the entrance of the lab. Without an invitation, Sherlock marched into the room.<p>

"Molly will be unable to accompany you today because she will be coming back with me." He came to stand next to Molly, giving his widest smile.

After spending a moment looking at Sherlock, Ewan, too, smiled broadly. "You're Sherlock Holmes! It's very nice to meet you. I'm Ewan Buchanan." The blond pathologist walked around the lab bench and put out his hand to Sherlock.

The detective stared coldly at the man before him, his calculated gaze picking apart every aspect of the man's life: s_ingle, never married, plays rugby and football, bakes, owns one cat and two dogs, plays piano and guitar, definitely attracted to Molly_. "A pleasure to meet you," he replied with an incredibly artificial smile, not taking the proffered hand.

Ewan withdrew his hand slowly, smile faltering slightly. "Molly said you often came to the lab for assistance on a case. If you need any help, Molly and I would be happy to lend a hand. Do you need our help for a big case or something? I mean, you came all the way to Scotland, I'm sure—"

"No, I am not here for a case. Even if I were, I most definitely would not need your help. I am simply here to bring Molly back where she actually belongs," Sherlock interjected in a tone that barely hid his irritation. He stared down at the blond man, noting with satisfaction that he was three inches shorter than the detective. There was a tense silence that was finally broken when Molly finally recovered from her shock and found her voice.

"Ewan, could you please get me a cup of coffee? I think I really need one. You know how I take mine," she said softly, reaching out and touching his arm. He turned and gave her an unsure look. "Please."

"Okay," he conceded, giving her a soft smile. He threw Sherlock a warning glare as he moved past him and left the room. The moment he was out of earshot, Molly turned on the tall, dark Consulting Detective.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" she demanded.

"Well…I…I'm here to take you back to London," Sherlock stuttered. He was confused. He thought Molly would be happy to see him.

"Why the hell would I go back to London?"

"That's where you're needed." The pathologist gave him a dubious look. "St. Bart's needs you. The lab and morgue are being run by morons now."

"Mike said that Meredith is doing great. She came very highly recommended."

"She's hardly a proper replacement for you," Sherlock said with a dismissive wave of his hand. "Nobody could replace you," he added more softly.

"Sherlock, I'm sure anybody is capable of getting you coffee and handing you slides," Molly said sitting back at her work station.

"I need you for much more than just that, Molly. You are an integral part of my crime solving system," he stated as evenly as he could.

"I'm sure Meredith will look the other way if toes start going missing from the morgue."

"But Molly, surely you can see that you don't belong here. You should be back in London. That's your home," he said. There was an edge of pleading in his voice, but she missed it. The small pathologist rose to her full height and came to stand toe to toe with the detective.

"Is that where I belong? So I can bring you coffee and run tests for you and steal body parts for you? Sherlock I'm not your personal assistant. I do so much more than that. Here, I'm doing important research and teaching young students to encourage them to pursue this field."

"You can do all that at Bart's. Molly, this is silly. Just come back, and everything can go back to normal," the detective said, sounding like a petulant child.

"I'm sure you'd like that, for things to go back to the way it was before. Well guess what, Sherlock? I'm not going back to that. I'm not some plaything you can have your way with and then cast me aside and expect that I'll still be here when it's convenient for you. Did you think I'd just run back to you at a moment's notice, that I've been waiting for you to come take me away? I'm sorry, Sherlock, but I am not that woman anymore. I told you before; it's my turn to be selfish. So I'm going to stay here with Ewan and do what makes me happy. It's about time I do something for myself."

"Mol—"

"I think it would be best if you leave now," came a voice from the door. Ewan had finally returned with two steaming cups of coffee. He walked over to where the two stood and placed himself between them. "Molly and I have a lot of work to do here, and, if you don't need our help, we would like to get started on it." He looked vehemently at the curly haired man, not moving an inch.

Sherlock ignored the blond man and looked at Molly. "Molly," he said in a tone that was unreadable.

"Ewan's right. We're really busy here. I really do think you should go now," she replied, not breaking eye contact.

Sherlock looked between the two pathologists before him. It was obvious that this was not going to go as he had planned. On the plane ride over here, he had seen himself storming into the lab, sweeping Molly off her feet, and bringing her home. Clearly, this Ewan character had not been part of his calculations. He would have to leave and regroup. "Fine, Molly. Obviously you have much work to finish here. I guess I should see myself out." He turned with a flourish and strode out of the lab, thinking up a new plan all the while.


	4. Tell Her You Love Her

**AN-I'm sorry, but I'm a lying liar who lies. This was supposed to be the last chapter, but it got so long I decided to have two more chapters. This one was inspired by the song Tell Her You Love Her by Echosmith**

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><p>Molly was fuming. Who the hell did he think he was, anyway? Strolling in here like he owned the place, expecting everyone to do as he said. What a complete and utter arse! Did he expect her to willingly follow him wherever and whenever he wanted? Well, she certainly showed him.<p>

"Is everything alright?" Ewan queried. "You've been staring at the doorway for quite some time. Did something happen? Do you want to talk about it?" Concern for her was written on his face.

"It's nothing. It's just that he's so…and he always makes me so…he's such a…gah!" she huffed in frustration. "I don't know."

"What did he do?" her friend asked gently.

"He wanted me to come back so I could be his little lab mouse again," she answered louder than she had intended. "He must have realized how much I did for him, and now he needs me to go back and serve him again. He always did that. He'd tell me to do something, and I'd just do it. And if I refused, he'd pay me a compliment, and I'd end up helping him. He always knew just what to say to get me to do his bidding."

"He seems like a bloody git."

"He is, a right git, but he's also wonderful. He's brilliant and burning. He does so much to help people. He says he does it as an alternative to getting high, but I know, deep down, he likes helping the common folk. He acts cold and indifferent, but I've never seen anyone as passionate as he is. When he sees something that's worth his time, he puts his whole self into it. And he's a genius. He can tell your whole life's story from a speck of lint on your shirt and a crease on your trousers. But he's so clever in one sense, yet he's completely ignorant in another. He's completely clueless when it comes to matters of the heart." Molly hadn't realized it, but her face had taken on a wistful, distant look when talking about Sherlock.

"You love him don't you?" Ewan asked, already knowing the answer.

"I did, but I'm over it now," she answered in less than convincing manner. "Really. I'm here now, and I'm doing things for myself. I'm happy."

"I know you're happy working here because of the way you smile when you come in and how eager you are to help the students who come in. I know you loved him because of the way you talked about him before. You had nothing but good things to say about him even though he has a reputation of being an arsehole. And I know you definitely still love him because of the way your eyes sparkled when you talked about him just now. Molly, you have it bad," Ewan insisted earnestly.

"That's silly," Molly dismissed him with a wave of her hand. "Let's not talk about this anymore." With that, she sat down and finally started her experiment.

When she turned away, she missed the way his face fell a bit in disappointment.

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><p>Ewan stepped outside to have a smoke. He hadn't had one in years, but today was as good a day as any to fall off the wagon. When he opened the door, he was greeted by a curly haired detective. "What do you want?"<p>

"You've been working with Molly for the past month. How has she been?"

The shorter man gave him a suspicious look. "She's been fine. She loves what she's doing, and she's happy."

"She's adjusted well, then. That's nice. And she's happy. That's a good thing," he said, nodding. "Does she talk about life in London often?"

"She doesn't talk about London very much. She seems quite intent on starting her new life here." Ewan saw Sherlock deflate visibly. "But when she does talk about London, she always tells me about this man that she worked with. She says that he's the most intelligent man she ever knew. She says he's brilliant, and she's never known anyone as wonderful as him. She says that he's hurt her so many times, but she will always forgive him."

Sherlock looked up. "She told you that?" Before he could say anything else, Ewan's fist made contact with Sherlock's jaw. His eyes widened in shock, and he threw a glare at the pathologist. "What was that for?"

"That was for all the times you hurt Molly. You had that coming. Now please, don't ever hurt her again. She loves you, after everything, she loves you so much. And I know you love her too. You didn't just come all this was to inquire about her health. You clearly care about her."

"That's absurd," Sherlock exclaimed. "I'm merely showing concern like any friend would do."

"You and I both know that's not true. You know she loves you; you need to tell her you love her too. If you don't, she's going to slip away, and somebody else is going to swoop in and steal her away."

"And how do you suggest I tell her?" Sherlock questioned, trying to sound irritated.

"Just tell her the truth. Tell her your secrets; tell her how you feel when you're around her. Don't run away from your feelings. As long as it comes from your heart, she'll be able to tell that you're being sincere." Ewan took a moment to let that sink in for the wildly ignorant man before him.

"Thank you very much, Buchanan," was Sherlock's reply after a few moments of silence. The blond man reached his hand out, but before he could react, Sherlock had thrown a right hook that landed squarely on his jaw. "That is for earlier," he said with a grin.

"Good luck, mate!" Ewan called after him, rubbing his jaw. He guessed he hadn't needed that smoke after all. Shaking his head, he made his way back to the lab.


	5. Prove it to You

**AN-Thus concludes my little Sherlolly tale. Thank you to everyone who read, favorited, and commented on my story. You guys are the best. I hope you are satisfied with this ending. This one was inspired by the song Prove it to You by Kris Allen.**

Ewan came back into the lab sporting a very interesting bruise on his jaw. "Are you okay?" Molly asked, rushing to his side. "What happened to you?"

"I had a minor run-in with someone outside. Don't worry; he didn't get away unscathed," he answered with a smirk. Molly grabbed a first aid kit and started fussing with the large purple spot forming on her friend's face. "I'm fine, Molly. I think we should call it a day."

"But there's so much to do here. We still haven't run of the necessary tests or started any of our cultures."

"It's fine. I can get to them tomorrow," he insisted. He pushed Molly by the small of her back and guided her to the door. He handed her her coat and bag. "I think you should get home. It's been an interesting day, and I'm sure you could use a rest."

"Do you want to share a cab?" Molly asked when they stepped out onto the street.

"Nah, I've got things to do on the opposite side of town," he replied, pointing in his intended direction. He hailed her a cab and helped her in. "See you later, then"

"See you tomorrow," she called with a wave.

He waved back and watched her pull away and disappear into the street.

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><p>Ewan had been right. She really needed a break after the day she had. On the cab ride home, Molly realized how tired she was, and a nice, long bath would be perfect for her to unwind. When she entered her flat, the tiny pathologist immediately started to disrobe. She made her way to the living room while simultaneously removing her shirt and trousers. Suddenly, from her bedroom, a dark figure emerged. With a scream, she grabbed the nearest thing to her, a lamp, and launched it at the head of the person invading her home. There came a shout of surprise.<p>

"For God's sakes Molly, calm down!"

"Sherlock, for fuck's sake what are you doing here?" she hissed, trying to calm her racing heart.

"I…There was something I needed to tell you," he replied matter-of-factly. In the silence that followed, they both became acutely aware of the fact that she was standing there in nothing but her bra and panties.

"I thought I made it clear that I have nothing to say to you," Molly stated firmly, crossing her arms in front of her chest in an attempt to cover herself a bit.

"You don't need to say anything. Just listen." Before she could protest, he turned away and barreled on, pacing nervously. "It has recently come to my attention that I may have caused you a great deal of pain in the past. For that, I am sorry. It was never my intention to hurt you; I am just unaware of the feelings of others and how to deal with my own. I wish for you to know that I truly regret ever hurting you."

"Sherlock, I have always forgiven you, and I always will. I know that you're just not good with the whole 'getting along with others' thing. I know that your intentions were never malicious," Molly spoke softly, moving closer to the detective.

"Please, Molly, let me finish. When you were gone, I realized that I had grown accustomed to your presence. Since you left, I cannot do anything. I cannot think straight because you are not there next to me babbling about some inane subject. I cannot work in the lab because you are not there to hand me the things I need before I even ask for them. I cannot complete my experiments because you are not there taking notes about every, little detail. Whenever I sleep, which isn't very often, I see your face. Whenever I go out, I think I hear your voice, and I look for you even though I know you're not there. I feel so lost without you."

"Sherl—"

He put his hand up to silence her. "I know that I do not deserve your love. You are a selfless, caring, generous, beautiful woman, and I am an unbearable, cold, heartless arsehole. You deserve someone as wonderful as yourself, someone who can actually make you happy, someone who actually deserves to be happy with you. I know that I should let you go, so you can find a worthy suitor; however, I know now that I will love you forever. There is nothing I can do about that. I want to be the one to make you smile, the one to make you laugh. I want to wake up every morning with you there with me. I just hope that you can give me a chance to prove it to you." At this, he finally took a breath and risked a glance at Molly. She had never taken her eyes off him.

"You really _are _an arsehole. You waited this long to tell me how you feel. I got a new job; I moved to a different country, all to get away from you and get over you. Now you go and tell me that this whole time you've loved me. What exactly am I supposed to do? I can't just leave now; I've made a commitment to this lab. And what about Meredith? She works at Bart's now, not me. I'll be out of work if I come back with you," she said, all the while moving closer to him. He hung his head, not seeing the playful look in her eyes. She reached out and touched his arm. "I guess you'll just have to take care of me until I can get myself a new job."

He looked up at her. "I'm sure we could work out some sort of exchange. We can give them Meredith and you can come back," he suggested, winding an arm around her waist. "However, I'm not sure if it's a good idea for you to come back to the lab to work. Every time you're near me, I feel the sudden, insufferable urge to kiss you."

"Is that right?" she asked with a cheeky grin.

"Oh, yes. It's a wonder that I managed to get anything done with you around," he answered with a smirk.

"Well, I _am_ right here now. Now would be a good time for you to act on those urges," she said, going up on her tiptoes.

That was all the encouragement he needed. He leaned down and captured her lips with his. She responded rather enthusiastically, wrapping her arms around his neck. He ran his tongue along her bottom lip, requesting access which she eagerly gave, opening up for him. After what seemed like ages, they parted for breath. For the first time, Molly noticed that Sherlock was sporting a bruise that looked suspiciously like Ewan's. "Did you hit Ewan?" she asked, pulling back a bit.

"In my defense, he threw the first blow. But he was right, I had it coming after all the things I did to hurt you before."

"Well, I can think of a few ways you can make it up to me," she said with a suggestive wiggle of her brow. She squealed happily when Sherlock, with a feral growl, picked her up and headed to her bedroom. They had a lot of catching up to do.


End file.
